Once Upon A Childhood
by InternationalChocolate
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a young boy who lived his mother and father in a broken old home on an isle, where his parents were banished years ago with no way out. And against all odds, this boy was happy. Was. Oneshot.


Once upon a time, Jay had been happy.

Out of the fearsome four, Jay was the only one to have a decent life, if for a short time. His father had opened up his shop, and his mother would weave clothing to sell. Jay had a small room connected to his parents room, and the washroom was next to him. It was small and not in the best shape, but it was home. Even though cracks raced across the walls and water sometimes leaked, or the window wouldn't open or the fact that no matter how many times his mother would sweep, the floor always looked dirty.

In the morning he would wake up and run out of his room and into the main room, jumping over the gaps in the floor and to the table when on special days he would get an apple to eat. Sometimes, on the best days, there was an apple for everyone. After he would play with broken toy knights that had lost their shine on their armour and their steads with chipped paint and loose legs. As he marched his army he would listened to his mother sing songs in arabic that she heard as a child, with a wistful tone to her voice Jay didn't quite pick up on as a child. She would sit in her creaking rocking chair in the corner of the main room, across from the table and the stove, weaving and knitting clothes and carpets to sell. When his father came home, he would bring a loaf of bread for dinner, and sometimes he brought a wilted flower for his mother, and he would smile at his son.

Not everything was perfect, some nights there was no bread at all. And when they though he was asleep, he would listen to them talk about the people who sent them here, an how they needed to find a genie of there own, and they would talk about who died. Or who was sick, or who lost a child, and how Auradon had to be stopped, and they would find a way off this island. Sometimes his mother would start crying, and Jay would cry too, because Jay hated his mom crying, and soon he hated hated this Aladdin, and Sultan and Jasmine and Auradon. They made his mom sad, so they must not be nice people.

When Jay was five, his mother came to him as he munched on an apple, and said he was going to have a sibling. Jay was surprised and happy he almost dropped his food. From that point forward he would eagerly pester his mother with questions so often he often had to go to the store with his father t give his mother some peace.

Jay liked working at the store, he would make sure all the stuff looked nice and none of his mother's creations fell to the floor and got dusty and dirty. He liked to talk to the other children when they came into the store. He even made a friend or two, one of them was a girl with purple hair and pretty green eyes. Sometimes they would go to the front of the store to play dragon, where he had to fight her, the dragon. At one point she started coming so much he knew he by sight and didn't have to search his mind for her name; Mal.

But then his mom started to get sick, really sick. She couldn't move very fast, as every step pained her. Her stomach felt like it was really bad, Jay was told. It'll pass, Jay was told. It's just the baby, Jay was told. She'll get better, Jay was told.

They were wrong.

One day, Jay was playing with his knights in the main room, while his mother was in her room. Suddenly she was screaming. She sounded terrified and in pain. Jay bolted up right. "Mommy!" he shouted, scared and confused, but his mother kept screaming.

So he ran to the only person he could. He raced as fast as his little body would allow. Straight to his father's shop, where his father was talking to the witch doctor, his daughter standing silently next him.

"Daddy! Mommy is hurt! She's screaming! Help her!" Jay shouted, tears pouring down his face. A million emotions flashed across Jafar's face, where he asked something urgently to the witch doctor, and together the two raced to his home.

" She'll live." said the soft voice of the girl.

Jay wiped his face with his sleeve. "How do you know?"

She tugged at the hem of her dress. " I see things. Like ghosts and spells being cast and ones hanging in the air. My ghosts tell me she will live, for now. She will hang on for you. Not for long though."

" How do I know your telling the truth?" he asks her.

"Because Daddy says you lie to gain something from someone, what do I have to gain from your mom dying?" she answered honestly, rich violet eyes boring into his.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Marianne. You're Jay, right?"

"Yeah."

" You should go home now. I'll watch the store."

Jay looked at the girl warily. "Are you sure? Can you make sure no one steals anything?"

Marianne nodded. "Yes. Ghosts can scare the most hardened of villians. Go." When he was older, Jay would remeber this conversation, and realise that Marianne was wise beyond her years.

The young Jay did not need to be told twice, and ran for home, not stopping until he reached the door. He heard crying, but not the kind from earlier. This crying was sorrowful, and regretful. Beneath the crying there was murmuring, a hushed conversation.

And in that moment he knew, and slid down the wall, sitting on the floor of their home.

He would not have a sibling.

From that day forward, his mother didn't have the strength to leave her bed. He was scared for his mother, Marianne's words ringing in his ears. That was when he began stealing. Little thing, and not valuable either. Just food for his mother. Jay would bring what he got to his mother, wanting her to keep her strength up. But she refused to eat unless Jay ate too, saying his father meant for the two of them to eat it, Jay never told her he stole it.

During those moments, she would tell Jay stories she never got around to telling, or she was planning on waiting to tell him, but she wanted to make the most out of the time she had left with her son. And after they ate, she promised, no, she swore that she would get better, and when she did she would make him the most beautiful blanket to go on his bed. And Jay of course, trusted her, never did he hesitate for a second the reality of what she promised. Ever.

Slowly, his father stopped paying attention to him, slowly forgetting his existence, only remembering to bring Jay food when he could, all his attention focused on the one person Jafar ever truly loved. About half way through, Jay could see this anger and hatred building up in his father, one that he had never seen before. One that, in fact, had been dormant for over seven years, having disappeared when he married his wife. And slowly, that anger and fury and hatred was reflected onto Jay.

He didn't see the signs. That she was getting paler every day, or the fact that she was losing weight rapidly, or her strength was being sapped away. He ignored the fact that she wasn't able to come and wake him up on the morning he turned six and wish him a happy birthday, like she did for the other five. Jay simply focused on her warm smile and the twinkle in her eyes and the fact that she was still here.

She left in the middle of the night. Jay woke up at midnight, when suddenly he felt as if his heart had been shot and was falling apart. He was dead quiet, and only then did he hear choked sobs. The young boy slipped out of his bed and crept across his room, and opened his door. And he saw something he would never forget. A sobbing Jafar, holding the cold hand of his wife, who lay still and dormant.

"Mommy." murmured the young boy, tears slipping down his face, and with each tear, a piece of his life broke into a million pieces, starting with his trust.

Jafar raised his head, and moved his gaze from his fallen wife to the wall. A raging fire burned in his eyes as he listened to his son. And his hands curled into fists.

So once upon a time, Jay had felt more happiness in five years of his life then the heroes children did while they lived in their castles. But it ended far too soon, as the years pasted, his life of the past blurred, as did his memory of his mother's face, dissolving to just her warm smile and her glowing eyes.


End file.
